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THE 



YEARLY MOONS 



B Y '/ . 




JOSEPH H./ YOUNG, 



S^ 



Maecenas * * =^ := * * 

Sunt quos curricnlo piilvereni Olympicum 
Collegisse juvat, * =•= * * 

****:;: :•: * * 

Quodsi me lyricis vatibus inseris, 
Sublimi feriam sidera verticc. 

HoRACK, Ode I., Book I. 



PHILADELPHIA; 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 

18 8 3. 



MAR 17 1883 



Copyright, 1883, by Joseph H. Young. 






L'r 



1 



THE YEARLY MOONS, 



.^fel 



RARE FRIEND, AND MOST POLITE PATRON OP LETTERS, 

WHO, TAKING MY MUSE KINDLY 

BY THE HAND, PRESENTS HER, IN THE SPACIOUS ODEON OF HER SISTERS, 

TO THE reader's ATTENTIVE AUDIENCE, 

THESE SONNETS 

are most CORDIALLY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. 



^^^^S^~ 



JAInTUARY. 

A dashing youth is he whose coursers fleet 
Outrun the steeds of Phoebus' flying car. 
His horses are the winds, his lash the sleet, 
He rides the storra, and cometh from afar, — 
The world where everlasting ages are. 
But he is young, and beautiful his feet 
Upon the mountains of the morn. We greet, 
O happy Year and 'New. we greet thy face 

And hail in thee fond Hope's eternal star. 
Be thou propitious, and thy dwelling-place 

For aye shall be our hearts, nor memory mar 
Thy features fair with rue's regretful scar. — 
But look, look there ! a shade — a spectre fast 
Behind him rides. Alack ! my heart, it is the past. 



II. 
FEBRUAEY. 

The darkness deepens just before the day, 

When night on night sweeps downward from the pole. 

Then watchers weary for the morning pray; 
And noisome dews exhale, as if tliey stole 
From yawning sepulchres. Upon my soul, 

O Winter, now at length thy shadows lay 

As if the weeks would never wear away; 

And dank and grewsome is thy feverous breath. 
Hark ! Wailing bells — heavy and lioarse ; they toll, 

Timing their measures to the march of death. 
Be still, sad heart : the waves of grief that roll 
Tremendous o'er thy sinking hopes, — their goal 

Is Heaven's shining shore ; and they shall bear 

Thy sorrow on their crest, and lay it safely there. 



III. 

MARCH. 

Ah, wild and wayward offspring of the Sun ! 
First-born from his reunion with the sphere 
That turns again to greet his kiss upon 

The inconstant face which shuns him every year, 
And every 3'ear repents 'mid the severe 
Regrets and penances of winter dun, 
Drear, dark, and desolate; — the frigid nun 
Among her sister planets. Headstrong child, 

Thou wouldst despoil the hopes that now appear 

In greening blades and swelling buds beguiled 

By thee, thou counterfeit, whose treacherous leer 

Takes on a smile. For when subsides her fear. 

And Life from long duress adventures forth — 

Full in her face thy blast hurls havoc from the North. 



IV. 



APRIL. 



O season, throned above the Pleiades, 

That setting, weep afresh to see thee rise 

Supremely regent o'er the rainy seas 
Aerial which issue from their eyes; — 
Thy robe of purple is the rainbow's dyes 

All spangled with the fleck of golden bees 

Early astir among the lilac trees. 

Nor is she less a woman than a queen 

Who changes with her shifting mind the skies; 

So varying moods diversify the scene. 

Or cold or warm or gay or full of sighs. 

As now she, beaming, laughs or, frowning, cries; — 

Eager to make and passionate to mar 

The joy of Spring wherein she shines the morning star. 



V. 



M A Y. 



The apple-blossoms of the sweet month May 

Upon the maiden Spring's uplifted brow 
Fall in a bridal veil of balmy spray. 

She seeks from Heaven annunciation now : 
It is her wedding-day; and He whose vow 
Forever with an everlasting " Yea" 
Swears that the seed-time shall not pass away — 
He is the bridegroom, — Faith and Nature's God. 

happy bride, whom Love does thus endow 
With bliss Deiiic, thrilling deep the sod 
That man has lacerated with his plow. 
And then thy joy inspires all nature; thou 
Dost come rejoicing, with a choiring train 
Of mated birds whose souses warble their love's refrain. 



VI. 



JU¥E. 



love, the month, the clay, the hour is here; 

And where art thou ? Oh, come ! my couch is spread 
Upon the immaculate bosom of the year 

Throbbing with life whose current, rich and red. 
Breaks in the blush of roses that appear 
When heaven tells its secret in her ear. 

And mine ? Ah, listen ! — roses for thy bed 
Strewed thick and odorous, and lilies fair 

Massed in a pillow for thy fairer head — 
Thy own sweet breath and thy own lustrous hair 

Shall shame them both. Oh, come ! through arbors green 

And labyrinths of climbing eglantine — 
Oh, come, my love! oh, haste! oh, fly to me! 
In June I pant, I thirst, I faint, I die for thee. 



VII. 



JULY. 



Forbear, muse. I scarce can creep : the ground 
Precipitous uprises with the hight 

Of great Olympus into depths profound. 

There sits The Thunderer. Sharp Ughtnings light 
The eyes that, under old Egypta's night 

Draping his brows, flash forked fire. The sound 

Falling strikes heavily, and with a bound 

Keverberating peals along the sky. 

The ocean groans, rolling all ghastly white, 

And men and beasts and birds together fly. 

boy, beware that tree. Dread Heaven ! thy blight — 
Thy thunder-blight has struck, and in the sight — 

The sight of his fond eyes its glare expires. 

His name was Ganymede, and love the death-bolt fires. 



VIII. 

AUGUST. 

The year is ripening; her girlhood's thrill 

Is growing fast into a matron's care. 
In clustering grapes the blood begins to fill, — 
The smell of blooming corn-fields loads the air 
With richness. Hear, Heaven, a mother's prayer, 
And gently lead her anxious feet until 
In Autumn's perfect joy thy blessed will 
Be done. She hears; and Virgo intervenes, 

Blending her smile with Sol's too fervid glare. 
Severely chaste she tempers him, and screens 
The panting Earth. But do thou still beware 
The dog-star's reign. Look skyward ! Sirius there 
ISTow rages while he bays the rising moon — 
The harvest moon, as soft as eve and fair as noon. 



IX. 

SEPTEMBER. 

Pomona, goddess of the year, thy horn 

Is poured into the Lap of Autumn crowned 
The Queen of queens, laughhig them all to scorn, 
Such peace and joy within her realm abound. 
Knee-deep the wallowing wheel goes gaily round, 
Crushing the juicy pulp. The full-ripe corn. 
Of stalk and husk and silken tassel shorn. 
Glitters in golden heaps that frequent lie. 

The shining ore of mines above the ground, — 
Bringing to pass the early prophecy 

Of yellow daiFodils. The love profound 
Of ^N'ature's heart in man and brute is wound 
In grateful ties about thine own, God 
Incarnate, first and last, in the immortal clod. 



X. 

OCTOBER. . 

I stood alone, and Memory came near. 

Pensive she came, borne on the dreamy wings 
Of thoughts that fill the Autumn of the year, 
When Silence lays her hand upon the strings 
Of ]^ature's harp, where Summer's echoings 
Linger . through ripe September. — Hark! The sere 
And falling leaf. O death ! and art thou here 
Concealed amid the shadows? — Pushino; back 

Untimely Winter, warm October swings 
The closing portals of the Zodiac 

Open again. The autumnal splendor flings 
On passing Summer and her precious things 
A pall of glory. Thus, oh thus, my heart, 
Will love transfigure death when life and thou do part ? 



XI. 

NOVEMBER. 

Pilgrim of time, thy feet approach a laud 

AVhere all is desert — bleak and mournful shore, 

Where leafless trees for skeletons upstand, 

And dismal winds for wailing ghosts deplore; 
The shore of a dead sea, encrusted o'er 

With frozen dews. Ah, me ! the barren strand 

Of age awaits us all, and the command. 

Dreadful and stern, " Go forw^ard." On that brink, 
O Thou, in whom our Father we adore. 

Divide the waters deathly cold that shrink 

The soul with fear. Yet now we live. And more 
Wouldst thou ? Look back : the past was once before. 

The cup within thy hand is Heaven's choice; 

This, this alone, is sure; oh, drink it and rejoice. 



XII. 

DECEMBER. 

An old man, bent with age and reft of hope, 

Plods heavily along a drifting road. 
'Tis night. The tempest howls. In one fell swope 

All ills together join to overload 

The steps whose youth the whirlwind did forebode, — 
Harvest of stormy seed. Look! on the slope 
Verging the grave he totters. Cease to cope, 
O single handed, with almighty Fate. — 

Alas! the old man reaps but that he sowed. 
Resign thee wdiose repentance comes too late. 

When he was young, from out their cold abode 

And cavernous, he loosed the winds that showed 
'No mercy to the traveller whose woes 
E'ow overtake and leave him lost in his own snows. 



XIII. 

FINALE. 

Mortal, so fine and fragile is that tliread 

Whereon thy life suspended hangs, no eye 
But One whose vision keen hath numbered 

The sands of shores whose leagues unmeasured lie 

Hath seen it; yet a whole eternity 
Inefifable, in one quick moment dread. 
Along its quivering tension may be sped. 
Infinite soul, conjoined with finite clay. 

Thou art a star alight of God most High, 
His life thy being. Passing swift away 

The dust consumes, but thou shalt shine for aye; 

As light of stars accounted dead — shalt fly 
On, on, and ever on throughout the vast 
Of thought — forever present and forever past. 



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